


I'd Tap That (oh fuck I didn't mean to tap that)

by Laurasauras



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Bullying, Fluff, Grindr, I'm Australian Do Not @ Me For Not Getting American College Details Right, M/M, Mention of ADHD and Bipolar 2, Pesterlog(s) (Homestuck), Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff References, Way Too Much Discussion Of College Nonsense, but in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-07-29 19:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20087779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: Karkat finds his old school bully on Grindr. Dave doesn't know how to shut up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ultimatum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultimatum/gifts).

> I've kept as close to real Grindr as I could but also pester-colours because fuck reading anything else but that! Also, I've never used Grindr, so it might not be super accurate, but I did ask my best friend about a million questions and he laughed at a screenshot of this despite not knowing Homestuck, so, win?
> 
> Amazing idea taken from [this tumblr post.](https://hipdads.tumblr.com/post/186624480799/part-2-of-that-first-thing-i-did-therell-be-a)

There are some parts about The Gay Experience, you reflect, that though new feel really fucking tired already. Realistically, Grindr has only been a thing for, what, definitely no more than 10 years, and it hasn’t been popular that whole time, so this _can’t_ constitute a tradition. And yet …

Terezi taps at your phone again, giggling. Which could be a sign that the guy she just favourited on your behalf is horrific, in one of any number of ways that you’ve come to expect from your ill-advised Grindr account. It’s very fucking unlikely that she’s laughing out of delight in having found your soulmate.

You’re not the romantic you were in high school. Well, you are, but that’s not getting you anywhere. So whatever, you have an account and you use it almost like it’s another mobile game, one that features a lot of unsolicited pictures of cocks and that made you feel obliged to spend an hour in front of the mirror trying to push yourself into one of the many gay pigeonholes of body description because heaven forbid they just look at your fucking pictures. (You never decided. You left your Grindr “tribe” unselected and have an irrational rage towards anyone who has it figured out.)

Sometimes you get a good texting session going with someone. Even rarer you meet up with one. For all that it is supposed to make it easier to make a connection, you’ve had sex with the same number of dudes from Grindr as you have from the library. That’s much more of an inditement on the app than it is a recommendation for the library as a source of hook-ups. 

Terezi lets loose an absolute cackle and turns your own screen towards you so you can see what she’s showing you. The bio is almost incomprehensible, except for the race-fetishist stuff. 

‘Yeah, that’s pretty fucking standard,’ you say, exiting his profile before she can do anything. ‘I have no idea why that’s the first impression every fifth assnugget wants to make, but I guess they must run into the other idiots on here and get encouraged.’

‘This guy has a dog!’ she says, already moving on. ‘You should date him so you can meet his dog.’

‘Ah, and the reason you’re with Serket comes out,’ you say dryly.

She pinches your nose as punishment and you squawk in protest. She’s not fucking gentle. You self-consciously tap on the favourite icon for the dog owner, taking the phone from her hand so you can drive for a bit. Not for the dog! He’s just kind of cute, that’s all. (Okay, so it’s a fucking husky. You’d fuck a guy to get to pat a dog that fluffy, or at least _this_ guy, anyway.)

‘Wait …’ you say, looking at one of the profiles that has just appeared amongst the grid of pictures. You _know_ this guy. ‘Holy shit, is that—’

‘Dave Strider?’ Terezi exclaims. 

You tap to bring his profile full screen and try and hold the phone closer to read his bio, but Terezi’s crowding you and you have to share the screen. He hasn’t used his full name, but you’d recognise him anywhere.

‘Oh my God,’ Terezi says, almost hushed. ‘It _is_ him.’

‘What the actual fuck! He used to bully _me_ in high school for being gay! Are you fucking—’

Terezi grabs your phone from you, needing it closer to make up for her appalling vision despite her fancy glasses, and her thumb slips over the screen. The tiny fire icon at the top of his bio fills in. 

You both freeze. That’s not a favourite, not like pressing a button so you can come back to his profile later and stare at it while you consider messaging him. That’s a _tap._ He’s going to get a _notification._ You’re a fucking lurker, you don’t tap people, you tentatively message polite men back if you’re feeling brave and otherwise stare at pictures of guys you’re never going to date.

‘No no no,’ you whisper.

You’re just going to have to throw your phone in the garbage disposal. It’s not like you enjoy having a device that enforces social availability at literally all times and besides, you have a landline for unknown reasons, and maybe you don’t even want to talk to anyone else for the rest of your miserable life, which is only going to be until the end of this next thought anyway, because clearly you’re about to strangle both yourself and Terezi with your large intestines.

A little orange notification tells you that Dave hasn’t just _seen_ your tap, he’s taken it upon himself to message you. Before you can warn Terezi that there’s an 85% chance she’s about to see a dick, she taps on that as well, clearly having not learned her lesson about touching your phone at all.

D: you know the thing about taps is that theyre just fuckin generic  
D: and usually i wouldnt respond because imo its the equivalent of a tiny kitten paw patting at the cuff of my jeans without any followup or  
D: wait no thats adorable and super appealing  
D: something just as timid but that i wouldnt respond to  
D: except youre pretty cute and youre not an asshole in your bio so like  
D: ill be the bigger man and start a fucking conversation seeing as this train is like three whole minutes late anyway and if i have to be left alone with my thoughts for any period of time i will do the most impressive forward dive with 2 1/2 somersaults and a twist in pike position off of this handle i’m perched on

Oh God. You snatch your phone back so that you can reply.

CG: YOU DON’T FUCKING RECOGNISE ME, DO YOU?  
D: holy shit did a celebrity tap me?  
D: hahahha that sounds hilarious  
D: but are you famous for real  
D: you have to answer its like if you ask a cop if theyre a cop but even more absolutely a real law and totally not made up  
CG: SHOVED DEAD MICE DOWN ANYONE’S PANTS RECENTLY, YOU VILE UNDULATING SHITHEAD?  
D: cant say i have  
D: is that  
D: hold up one sec

You put down your phone and bury your face in your hands. You can’t believe you messaged him back. You can’t believe you didn’t just take advantage of him not knowing you. You have the worst fucking temper and it never comes out when it might be useful, like when you were _actually_ being bullied by this fuckstain, but now that he’s just a cute guy messaging you on an app you’re too nervous to use, sure, now you can yell at him.

‘Don’t be a weenie, Karkat,’ Terezi says, nudging you. ‘It’s not the end of the world. You embarrass yourself all the time and you haven’t died yet.’

‘You don’t get to reassure me,’ you snap. ‘You are at the top of my shitlist, and considering this entire situation is competing for that position, that’s impressive. Gold medal for Terezi, I hate you more than I hate what is happening right now _and_ more than I hate myself.’

Terezi rolls her eyes and shoves you, standing up and making her way to the fridge as if she’s snacky now that she’s ruined your life. You wonder if it’s worth the effort of having a tantrum now or if you should save it for when Dave replies, presumably with something so cutting and hilarious that you piss your pants and your entire school is transported into your apartment to point and laugh at your misery.

Your phone makes a noise to inform you that your death is indeed imminent, or rather that you have a new message, because it doesn’t realise what a portent of doom that is. You unlock it reluctantly.

D: karkat i am so fucking sorry i put mice down your pants  
D: also that i pantsed you that one time in gym  
D: also for that rap i did for the talent show omg that was not cool  
D: also for making your locker waterproof and then filling it with toilet water so all your stuff got wrecked and you got dunked with toilet water when you unlocked it  
CG: I THINK I GET THE PICTURE.  
D: holy shit i was so mean to you?  
D: like thats just what i can think of off the top of my head and i keep thinking of more  
D: like that time i drew dicks all over your car  
D: or when i trapped you in the chemistry classroom when all the teachers had gone home holy shit how did you even get out?  
D: oh god karkat do you remember when i just straight up poured chilli on your head at lunch completely unprompted?  
D: i was a fucking psycho!  
CG: WEREN’T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE CATCHING A TRAIN?  
D: yeah i missed that ill get the next one  
D: oh fuck i was the worst  
D: karkat man i am so so sorry  
D: and im sorry i didnt recognise you like that is just insulting right  
D: in my defense  
D: you know  
CG: I KNOW??  
CG: OH, I’M SORRY, AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE INNER WORKINGS OF THE BRAIN THAT ALSO CAME UP WITH “HEY, WOULDN’T IT BE FUNNY IF EVERYONE PRETENDED KARKAT IS INVISIBLE FOR A WHOLE FUCKING WEEK?”  
CG: YOU CONVINCED MRS SNYDER TO MARK ME AS ABSENT!  
D: well yeah because she couldnt see shit to begin with  
D: like in retrospect she was a pretty good teacher but why the fuck would a legally blind person teach at a high school thats just begging for trouble  
D: half the class just put their backpacks on chairs and then fucked off for like half an hour do you remember that?  
CG: YES, EXCEPT I NEVER *DID*, BECAUSE I VALUED MY FUCKING EDUCATION AND I HAD PERFECT ATTENDENCE UNTIL YOU CONVINCED HER I WASN’T THERE.  
D: haha yeah that was a dick move  
D: sorry  
CG: SO WHAT DO I KNOW?  
D: what  
CG: YOU SAID “in my defense you know” AND THEN NEVER FINISHED YOUR THOUGHT.  
D: oh just you know  
CG: NO???  
D: well you dont exactly look the same  
CG: NO SHIT?? IT’S BEEN A FUCKING DECADE? I STILL FUCKING RECOGNISED YOU!  
D: no okay but when we were at school you were  
D: look dont be offended  
CG: THAT’S SUCH A GOOD STARTER. OBVIOUSLY NOW I AM NOT ALLOWED TO TAKE OFFENSE.  
D: exactly  
CG: NO YOU FUCKWIT I TAKE OFFENSE DOUBLY AS MUCH!   
D: i didnt even say anything yet  
CG: DO YOU HAVE TO?? AFTER “DON’T BE OFFENDED”???  
CG: HEY DAVE, DON’T BE OFFENDED, BUT YOU’RE SUCH A REPELLANT HUMAN BEING THAT I JUST RECEIVED A CALL FROM NASA WANTING TO STUDY HOW THE FUCK I MANAGED TO STAY TALKING TO YOU FOR SO LONG.  
CG: I TOLD THEM I HAD NO IDEA, CLEARLY I HATE MYSELF MORE THAN ANY HUMAN HAS EVER HATED HIMSELF IN THE HISTORY OF THE PLANET, OR I WOULDN’T PUT UP WITH IT!  
CG: THEY SAID THAT THEY’RE GOING TO GIVE ME A PRIZE, BECAUSE I’VE BEATEN THE WORLD RECORD FOR TOLERATING YOU.  
CG: CONGRATULATIONS TO ME! THE CROWD GOES WILD AND THEN STARTS FORNICATING MADLY OUT OF SHEER APPRECIATION FOR MY ACHIEVEMENT.  
D: wow

You’re actually breathing a bit heavily. You put your phone down and join Terezi in the kitchen.

‘How’s it going?’ she asks.

You dip your fingers under the tap as you fill a glass with water and flick them in her direction. She’s entirely unphased.

‘I’m bored now,’ she says. ‘Want to come with me to bother Vriska at work?’

‘I understand that it’s hilarious that she has to be polite to us when she’s at work, but it’s not as funny as you think it is.’

‘But Karkat, the uniform!’

‘Again, comedy gold the first time we went and ate there. It’s starting to just be “eating at a diner” now. Like, we could at least go some place that has actually decent food.’

She scowls at you while you drink your water. Your heart is beating fast and heavy in your chest and your palms are all hot against the glass. You’re nervous to see if Dave has responded. It doesn’t matter if he’s responded. 

‘Well I’m not going to stay here,’ Terezi says. ‘High school is _done_ and I’m not interested in hearing about whatever completely mundane nightmares you give yourself by dwelling on this all day.’

‘He literally shoved me in a locker once!’

‘You got into the locker willingly, Karkat, I was there. He said you couldn’t do it, and you got into the locker to prove him wrong.’

‘He _still locked me in!’_

But she’s clearly not interested in your drama. You have the tendency to blow the wrong things out of proportion for Terezi. When you’re going on a tirade about the injustice that is almost nowhere serving vegan friendly meals despite not being a vegan yourself, she’s generally amused. When the two of you are competing to insult Sollux the worst, she’s right there with you. But when you get like this, with all that intensity directed at yourself … you get why she isn’t interested. But you can’t shut off the part of you that’s self-involved well past the “funny” level.

‘I want lunch anyway,’ Terezi says. ‘Are you coming or not?’

You make an effort to not seem all sorry for yourself as you turn her down. She still hugs you before she leaves and you guess that you’ll try not to imagine her hating you for the rest of the day. You’ve got more important things to think about.

Your phone sits innocently on the couch where you left it. Too innocently.

D: i really forgot you did that  
D: like i was just having a good old reminisce in this rocking chair while i chewed on tobacco about the good ol days where i was a real dick of a child and you took the brunt of that  
D: but it wasnt all mousey pants time was it  
D: you took a lot of it with impressive resignation and scowling  
D: like you definitely heard that bit at the antibullying assembly where they said if you ignore it maybe theyll lose interest  
D: holy shit i was a bully  
D: fuck i mean i didnt even have a square face and dental problems the cartoons misled me on the fundamental ways to identify a bully  
D: turns out the key identifying feature is “were they bullying someone”  
D: okay anyway that awful realisation aside  
D: sometimes you just let me have it and it was so impressive every time  
D: i loved it when you did that fuck thats messed up  
D: and that one time where you came up to me and i hadnt even done anything yet or not that day anyway and you just gave me this full blown lecture  
D: didnt let me get a word in and my words sneak past the hardiest of verbal walls  
D: all about how yes you were gay but it didnt make you less of a person and what did it matter anyway because it wasnt like you were getting up to an abundance of homosexual activities because it turns out that being the punching bag of a bored shitprince isnt exactly what most dudes want out of a boyfriend should they be in the market for one  
D: and like i knew you were because  
D: okay no i didnt but everyone thought you were because you acted like how we thought gay people acted like you were in drama club and you had legitimate feelings about english assignments and you couldnt throw a basketball to save your life  
D: and i cant even say it wasnt about you being gay but i really didnt think it was at the time  
D: i was just fascinated by you and by the fact that you owned what was in my mind something i would have been keeping hidden if i was able to acknowledge it at all  
D: like if i was gay in high school  
D: which yes i will acknowledge the ridiculous of phrasing this like a hypothetical but at the time i thought it was a hypothetical  
D: im not exactly 100% on the gay team here i still like girls and i did then so i had some plausible deniability  
D: but i knew that if i was gay in high school i would not be acting even slightly in a way that would have given me away  
D: not a single thing about me would have said gay except for maybe kissing boys or whatever  
D: at which i would be the best  
D: i assumed that in this hypothetical universe where i was gay that i would also turn the entire student body gay too  
D: id have the hottest bf in the school  
D: oh wait thatd be me  
D: OH SNAP  
D: um  
D: i guess even now i struggle with like falling into what i see as stereotypes  
D: like even caring too much about stuff  
D: i could be on a date with a girl and think she looks beautiful and some stupid voice in the back of my head is like  
D: wow you think a girl is beautiful thats PRETTY GAY BRO  
D: anyway my deep seated emotional issues aside  
D: whats up with you dude  
D: this app is so fucked up why would there not be a way to delete messages youve sent  
D: karkat ill pay you a million bucks not to read that  
D: karkat  
D: wait are you seriously not reading that  
D: or this  
D: dude i bared my soul you better fucking read it at least

You stare at your screen with your mouth hanging open in an absolutely uncontrollable expression of surprise. He might have forgotten about your tirades but you had also forgotten about his uncontested ability to continue to talk forever if not stopped. You hadn’t realised that also translated to text. 

CG: I STEPPED AWAY FOR FIVE MINUTES.  
D: oh hey dude  
D: wassup  
CG: WOW.  
CG: WAS I SUPPOSED TO NOT BE OFFENDED BECAUSE YOU ACCURATELY DIAGNOSED ME WITH GAY IN HIGH SCHOOL?  
D: no shit i totally got sidetracked there  
D: i meant you were  
D: look you were a tubby little kid with acne and no volume control  
CG: THANK YOU??  
D: yeah i didnt preface it with no offense for shits and giggles  
CG: AND?  
D: and you clearly grew up hot so  
D: im not to blame for not connecting the you of high school who wore t shirts to swim days with the fucking model on my screen right now

He’s trying to flatter you. He wants you to forgive him, so he’s trying to flatter you. Except he’s shit at it, because first he took the time to remind you of your many flaws first. 

Fuck it, you have to look at what pictures you put on your profile to assess whether he’s being a dick or not.

They’re good pictures of you, obviously, you wouldn’t put _shit_ pictures up on a dating app, but they’re still just you. You can admit very quietly that you got lucky with a couple, but … Yeah, look, honestly it’s a huge upgrade from high school. You’d probably like yourself a lot more if you were able to let go of all your issues from back then.

D: sorry i made it weird  
D: like weirder than it already was  
D: and i made you talk to me for so long while basically unloading all my shit on you  
D: would have been decent of me maybe to hear your thoughts on all that rather than what i just did?  
D: fuck  
D: can i just buy you a beer or something  
D: i cant fuck that up  
D: ill even just paypal you like $20 or something so you can just go and buy a sixpack and you dont have to interact with me further  
CG: WERE YOU GOING SOMEWHERE?  
D: what  
CG: ON THE TRAIN, LIKE YOU’RE CLEARLY NEARBY RIGHT NOW, THAT’S HOW THIS STARTED.  
D: oh just heading home  
D: rose lives near here  
D: like its a pain that i missed my train but another will happen literally any minute and its only a couple of stops  
CG: THERE’S A BAR RIGHT NEXT DOOR TO MY APARTMENT.  
CG: THE GEORGE?  
D: yeah super close to the station  
D: nice location dude  
D: fuck i feel old  
D: literally just complimented you on your real estate choice  
CG: SHUT UP AND BUY ME LUNCH.  
D: yeah  
D: yeah ok i can do that


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave buys Karkat lunch and they attempt to catch up as if Dave didn't put all of his considerable intelligence into never bullying Karkat the same way twice back in high school.

DAVE: rose omg i fucked up   
DAVE: i really fucked up   
ROSE: You left here ten minutes ago, how have you already gotten yourself into trouble?   
DAVE: pls hold   
ROSE: This is ridiculous, you messaged me first.

You have to put your phone away so you don’t get hit by a car or whatever crossing the road. Your feel like you could run a marathon, your heart is beating so hard and fast and you don’t have anywhere to put your nervous energy. You shove your hands into your hoodie pocket and tap your fingers together in deliberate rhythms, which barely helps this time. Your fidget cube is in your backpack but you’re walking, you can’t get it out.

Walking to a bar. In order to buy a guy lunch. With money you absolutely do not have. And he deserves to order off the top shelf, or you know, wherever it is they keep the lobsters, because you were an absolute dick to him ten years ago.

You get to the bar and glance around. It’s pretty empty, it’s like 11:50 and so even if it were a popular lunch place it wouldn’t exactly be bumping yet. Considering you just spent a significant amount of time staring at his pictures in disbelief, you’re pretty confident that Karkat isn’t one of the blonde businesswomen sitting in that booth. You choose a different booth, away from where anyone might hear whatever embarrassing shit you have to say, and sit facing the door. You pull your phone out again.

ROSE: Dave, are you injured?  
ROSE: You could tell me that at least.  
ROSE: I’m going to bet that there’s nothing actually wrong and that you’re overreacting as per usual.  
DAVE: no theres totally something wrong  
DAVE: i need money  
ROSE: Wow.  
DAVE: i dont have time to beg pretty for you but i will later if you need me to   
DAVE: seriously consider this a ginormous i owe you that you can use for literally anything  
ROSE: You must be desperate.  
DAVE: i am and i dont have time to barter  
DAVE: hell be here any second i cant believe i beat him here actually  
ROSE: “He”?  
ROSE: The intrigue deepens.  
DAVE: not like that not like that  
DAVE: so i was on grindr  
ROSE: “Not like that,” he says, like a liar.  
DAVE: and i accidentally bumped into karkat vantas from high school  
ROSE: How on earth does that constitute an “I need money” emergency?  
DAVE: because i was a fucking monster to him and oh god oh fuck hes here and im on my phone like a dick omg please money please rose please  
ROSE: Your payment is definitely to explain this all in a lot more detail.  
ROSE: Obviously I need to do some cyberstalking.

You shove your phone into your pocket and stand up awkwardly when Karkat enters the bar. He looks right at you, probably because you’re standing up awkwardly, and visibly sighs before walking over. You almost sit back down, but then why did you stand up? You wait until he arrives and sit down at the same time as him, reminding yourself painfully of the finishing school that you and Rose have both done your best to repress from your memories. 

‘Hi,’ you say.

‘Look, this isn’t one of those cutesy-cutesy stories where you bat your eyelashes at me and I forgive you for tormenting me,’ he says, instead of greeting you. ‘This is me getting a free lunch for my troubles and you doing the bare fucking minimum for karma’s sake. I’m not letting you walk around in the world deserving a random anvil on the head, Strider, I’m just fucking generous like that.’

It’s almost exactly like being in high school again. You’re fighting back the urge to smile at his intrinsic Karkatness while also filled with the almost irrepressible urge to keep him going, to prod him into an even bigger tirade. You want him to lecture you, you want to see when he runs out of words, you want to hear his throat scratch and rasp as he still keeps telling you off and then you want to poke him again, just to see.

You’re not an asshole now though, or at least you’re trying not to be. You push a menu towards him.

‘Message received, dude, absolutely, please have your absolute way with my bank account. I want her to be walking wrong for days after you’re finished with her, just absolutely …’ You trail off at his expression. ‘Beer?’ you say to make up for it.

‘I’m not really a beer drinker,’ he says. ‘But I’m not having bourbon in the middle of the day. So, sure, I’ll defer to your judgement on this. Entry level beer, please.’

You nod and stand up, grateful for the excuse to go to the bar. You pull your phone out while you wait for the bartender to come back out from the kitchen and check your balance. You breathe a sigh of relief that Rose has come through for you, with the obligatory “For sex” as the description that she’s inflicted on you and your innocent banker, if that’s a thing they see. The joke demanded to be made, though.

You wanted to stand on your own feet when you moved out. You still have no idea if it was worth it, if you shouldn’t have maybe used the Lalondian side of contacts to get your start, take advantage of the gifts you’re lucky to have been born with, but you definitely can’t go back home now that you’ve felt that independence. You’re _careful_ with your money, you can stretch it real thin, especially if you occasionally go and stay with Rose and get a few meals with her towards the end of a pay cycle. Today is not a day to be careful.

The bartender asks you what you want and you order a couple of the fancy pale ales, hoping the lighter taste will be okay, feeling even more nervous about buying someone a drink than you usually would be. Fuck, was that deliberate? Is he punishing you? Telling you he’s not a beer drinker and then sending you to make an impossible choice? Maybe you should have gotten him a cider or something, but he didn’t say that either and fuck it, she’s poured you two beers now and you’re handing over your card, everything is just going to have to be okay.

You take the beers back to the booth and Karkat looks up from the menu. You smile at him tightly as you sit back down. Damn, you feel awkward.

‘Did you want to yell at me or punch me in the nuts or something?’ you offer.

‘How about we pretend this is just a normal lunch,’ he says.

You wonder what exactly it is that people do on normal lunches. 

‘So … what are you up to these days?’ you ask, trying not to look like small talk physically pains you. You fucking hate dating. Not that this … Look, it’s just a shitty part of dating that happens to also be a shitty part of … whatever this is.

‘I’m studying,’ he says. You have a weird moment of gratefulness that he isn’t, like, a CEO or something, here to make you feel two inches tall. ‘I’m going to be studying for the rest of my life, which you can take either as a testimate to the fact that it’s going to go on for fucking eternity or that I’m going to die before I narrow my focus enough to actually get my PhD. I thought my masters would kill me but no, turns out that was just a warm-up torture.’

‘Oh,’ you say, a little bit shell-shocked that someone you once pantsed in front of the principal is now calmly (kinda) discussing his doctorate studies. Shit, you know nothing about grad school stuff, you barely know anything about college full stop. ‘What subject?’ you ask, hoping that’s close enough to the right word. Should you have said major? 

‘Literature,’ he says and you nod immediately. Probably should have guessed. ‘Specifically how novels outside the accepted “literary canon” have impacted society. The importance of books that aren’t intending to be intellectual, that kind of shit. Except no one agrees on what the canon is and books that weren’t popular are hard to find articles on. And I spend that much time grading first years’ papers that I pretty much scream whenever I try and read anything these days, so …’

He takes a sip of beer and you watch him carefully for evidence that you fucked up. He doesn’t exactly moan in extasy and rub his belly like a cartoon bear, but he doesn’t spit it in your face either. 

‘What about you?’ he asks.

‘I’m …’ Fuck it’s hard to explain, this is even worse than the asking after other people part, the part where everyone but you has a real job and you’re doing … ‘Do you remember in high school I sometimes made those shitty comics?’

Karkat looks deeply unimpressed, which probably means he’s remembering _very_ accurately.

‘I did the college thing too, mostly, flunked out when I had a big freakout over not knowing what I was going to do with my degree and the debt I was racking up, you know, normal shit to do six months away from finishing a degree instead of actually just finishing the damn thing.’

Karkat nods and despite the fact that he’s just told you that he’s willingly stayed on at college, you kinda feel like he does get it, more than most people seem to. You’ve had a lot of pitying looks over that kind of statement. People kinda assume everyone’s gone to college these days and you don’t like to say you _didn’t_ go because you buy into the elitism just as much as the rest of the fucking planet but _ugh._

‘Had a tiny breakdown. My brother actually pulled me out of it. He … doesn’t have much time for like mindfulness or whatever, but he knew I was going through something he couldn’t just tell me to snap out of, so he made me work for him instead. Dude has like 10 jobs, it’s not the kind of life I’d like, but he’s also a giant frat boy bastard who if he rocks up with his kid brother and says I’m gonna be working with him the bosses don’t protest. I mean, they didn’t _pay_ either, but none of them kicked me out.

‘So one day I’d be doing heavy manual labour and another I’d be making music and another I’d be sorting mail and another I’d be waiting tables and it was _relentless,_ he gave me one day a week off and I just slept through it but I looked forward to going back again? I was fucking tired and I wasn’t earning squat, but I didn’t have to think about infinite possibilities or whatever and it felt good to be doing shit instead of trying to focus on lectures and getting told off for clicking my pen too much or whatever.

‘And then my brain just woke up one day and was like, “remember comics?” and I asked Bro for an extra day off and he told me I wasn’t allowed to half-ass it like that, if something had come to me I had to give it all my time, so I did.’

You pull out your phone and bring up your website. It’s smartphone compatible in the same way that it’s desktop compatible; it’s a piece of shit that you have to endure in order to get to your content. Sometimes you wonder if you’re a complete idiot for deliberately making your shit hard to access. You just … don’t know how else to be.

‘This is hideous,’ Karkat tells you.

‘I know.’

‘You can’t get away with saying it’s ironic anymore, you clearly put effort into making this hideous,’ he says.

‘I know.’

He regards you with interest for a moment and then looks back at your phone. You decide to look at the menu instead of him because you need him to understand for some reason and you can’t be hovering over him while he attempts to make sense of sbahj.com.

‘Is this … Did you just reference fucking Derrida?’

‘Uh, yeah …’ you say.

‘This isn’t stupid!’ he accuses.

‘Oh no, it’s definitely stupid,’ you say.

_’You’re_ not stupid!’

‘Um …’ you say.

‘Send me the link to that,’ he says, handing your phone back to you. 

You obey, realising belatedly that the only contact information you have for him is Grindr and that this is not exactly the intended usage of the app. You put your phone away. You think he might understand what you’re doing with it. It’s kind of an uncomfortable feeling.

‘So, lunch?’ you say.

He doesn’t order lobster, because the pub doesn’t actually serve lobster. They do serve pork belly though, and he gets that. You get pizza, because it’s cheap and hopefully less obvious than going for the salad. You don’t skimp on the beer. 

It’s not like you think if you treat him to a nice enough lunch then suddenly everything will be okay between the two of you. But it’s important to you that you show him that you sincerely are sorry. It’s like reparations. Hell, it’s probably more for you than him at this point, he seems fine. Like … really fine. 

‘Do you keep in touch with anyone from school?’ you ask at one point.

‘Terezi is studying law at the same school as me, so we hang out a fair bit. She’s dating Vriska, who in every way except physical is still a 15-year-old girl. And physically she just dyed her hair blue, so maybe it is every way.’ 

‘Sorry I stole your girlfriend,’ you add to your list of apologies.

‘Yeah that was shitty of you,’ Karkat says. ‘But I was much more pissed off about you thinking you just _could_ do that, than like, actually losing her. The being gay thing kinda helped.’

‘I probably should apologise to her,’ you realise. ‘Because I was much more into the fact that I’d stolen her than … her.’

‘She’s fine with it,’ he says dryly. 

‘Still should probably say it.’

‘Besides them, Kanaya brings me food I can’t pronounce way too frequently and sometimes bullies me into changing my sheets or other things most normal adults can think of. It’s working with babies all day, it’s made her even more nurturing. I actually met up with Rose earlier in the year to pick her brain on fantasy novels.’

‘She didn’t tell me,’ you say, kind of offended.

‘Would you have been interested?’ he asks.

You have no idea. You hadn’t thought of Karkat even once since graduating, as bad as that sounds, except when you noticed that he wasn’t at the five year anniversary so you couldn’t mess with him for old times sake. 

You really had thought it had been a mutual game. You can’t believe how big of a _dick_ you were. You’ve had a few realisations about your high school years, mostly the fact that you were Big Gay for your best friend, but this is infinitely more uncomfortable. It’s messing with your head that you were the bad guy, and you really don’t have anywhere to hide from that.

‘What about you, do you see anyone?’

‘Rose, obviously,’ you say. Probably doesn’t count, by virtue of being related. ‘Jade and I dated for a while but she’s fuck knows where, exploring and sciencing. Couldn’t be kept in one city, definitely not in one room. John’s still my best friend but he kinda forgets I exist if I’m not in front of him, so it’s probably been six months but if I called him up right now he’d probably be down for an adventure and he would have no idea how long it’s been.’

You pause and think. Did you really only keep two friends, one of whom you have no idea where she is, and a sister from high school? You probably wouldn’t have recognised Karkat if you saw him down the street. It’s _weird_ how far away all that shit is now. 

‘Did you want dessert?’ you offer, partly so you stop thinking so much.

‘You’ve done your penance, Strider. I think I’m full enough to fall asleep.’

For some reason you don’t want to stop hanging out with him. Maybe you don’t have enough friends. Maybe you’re just a bit desperate for him to like you because you’d never considered that he hadn’t until today. Maybe it’s that a lot of people have you tuning out half their sentences and then feeling bad for doing that, but something about him keeps you engaged.

‘Coffee?’ you say.

He thinks about it and then shrugs. 

‘If you’re so desperate to spend more money on me I won’t stop you.’

It’d be so easy to flirt with him. It’s not the first opening he’s given you. Well, you’d flirt with a brick wall if you’re honest and what you see as openings aren’t always invitations so much as times you’ve thought of something witty, but there’s been opportunity. And you would, he’s … well, he’s fucking _hot._ But if you do, then none of this has actually been for him or for closure, it’s been because you thought if you said the right things and flashed your debit card around then maybe you’d get in his pants. And the thought of being that kind of guy chills you to your spine, is a more effective watcher than any nun could be. 

You order coffee and decide you may have earned enough good faith tokens that you can bring up the past again.

‘How are you so chill with me right now?’ you ask.

‘It helped that when I walked in here you looked more nervous than a freshman with a “come see me after class” on their paper instead of a letter grade.’

You snort and rub the back of your neck. Nice first impression. 

‘And I left all that shit behind me a long time ago. I mean, I wasn’t _unmoved_ by remembering it or anything, but even back when it was happening if I complained about it too much I realised I just sounded boring, even to myself. And it wasn’t _traumatic._ Could have been, if I were someone else or you were someone else, or if people had caught on and joined in or whatever. But really it was just every few months you’d be an asshole for no reason and if anything, people seemed to think that meant we were friends.’

_’I_ thought we were friends,’ you say. ‘If anyone said shit about you I was like, dude, no, that’s Karkat, he’s cool. And you weren’t, but you were.’

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘That makes sense.’

‘So you just … dealt with it?’

‘It kinda sounds like you just dealt with shit too,’ he says. ‘Like I’m sure that getting your shit together after leaving college wasn’t as easy as you made it sound.’

You don’t really know how to respond to that. You nod awkwardly and hide your way-too-many feelings behind your coffee. Today has been full of way-too-many feelings. 

Maybe it’s time to give Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff a new friend. They wear a lot of your processing. There’s important realisations in their friendship, buried under the dirty jokes and the pretentious references. 

He finishes his coffee and you realise that you’re going to have to say something new or he’s going to leave, but you might have finally run out of things to say.

‘This has been surprisingly … something,’ he says. ‘Yep, surprisingly something, I think that’s the most I can define it right now. I wouldn’t verbally abuse you if I happened to see you in the street, anyway.’

‘Same,’ you offer. He laughs under his breath.

‘See you around, Strider,’ he says.

You salute him with two fingers as he gets up and leaves. You really wish you could have gotten something more from him, some promise of future friendship, but this wasn’t about scoring a friend. 

If he can get over your past, maybe you can too. You settle your bill and leave the bar, holding the door for some people coming in for Sunday afternoon drinks. You wonder which apartment is Karkat’s, there’s one on either side. You manage not to look at the buzzers, instead turning firmly in the opposite direction of the station. You have a debt to pay off, and wow is she going to regret asking for payment in words.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat has dinner with Rose and Dave.

You kind of want to do your thesis on _Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff._

You’ve written a few pretty intensive essays trying to find the original take that’s going to get you your doctorate. You’ve studied women’s literature, queer literature, banned books, dollar paperbacks and stories passed down in the oral tradition. Basically anything not written by old white dudes and lauded as “essential”, you’ve considered. 

Nobody is calling _Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff_ essential.

It’s serialised and accessible in a way that reminds you of Dickens or Conan Doyle. It’s shitty and offensive in a way that reminds you of fucking _Family Guy_ or something, but if it were done by the Monty Python guys. It’s China Mieville and ten times as subtle. And there’s multiple comics devoted to dunking on Plato, where the time travel mechanics that the eponymous heroes use to kick the shit out of him actually make more sense than anything you’ve read in “real” comic books.

You kind of think Dave Strider might be a genius. 

KARKAT: I STILL HAVE YOUR LE GUIN BOOKS.  
ROSE: I am aware.  
ROSE: Did she change your life?  
KARKAT: I JUST DON’T THINK I COULD EVER BE AS INTO WIZARDS AS YOU.  
ROSE: I wasn’t expecting that kind of transformation.   
ROSE: Well? Is fantasy the lens through which you will examine the world after all?  
KARKAT: LOOK, I CONSIDERED IT.  
ROSE: I should hope so, after I entrusted my books to you.  
KARKAT: I’D TELL YOU IF IT WERE USELESS. I THINK I’LL USE HER ESSAYS ON THE IMPORTANCE OF FANTASY AT THE VERY LEAST.  
ROSE: References are vital.   
ROSE: Would you like to drop them to my home, to save me inconveniencing myself for your benefit?  
KARKAT: LAST TIME YOU MET ME AT THE LIBRARY.  
ROSE: I have many books to read at home before I go borrowing new ones.  
KARKAT: THAT HAS LITERALLY BEEN THE CASE ALWAYS AND FOREVER.  
KARKAT: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?   
KARKAT: IF YOU’VE READ 50% OF THE BOOKS YOU OWN, I’LL GARGLE MY OWN TESTICLES.  
ROSE: You’re a delight as ever to talk with, but I’m just too busy at home right now.  
ROSE: If you want to “return my books”, you’ll have to do so here.  
KARKAT: WHY DID YOU PUT THAT IN QUOTATIONS.  
ROSE: A typo.  
ROSE: It couldn’t be anything else.  
ROSE: I’m afraid I have to step away, my houseguest is becoming unruly.   
ROSE: I’m home all day tomorrow, if you come around a meal time my hospitality will of course be yours.

You glare suspiciously at your phone. You didn’t mention Dave even once! Or anything else she could use against you! You don’t know what it is about Rose, but she always seems to walk into conversations with the upper hand. 

You wonder if Dave is her houseguest. Surely she’d just say his name if it were someone you both knew. But then again it’s Rose, she probably knows you don’t know whether she’s talking about Dave and she knows it’s driving you crazy and she’s specifically doing it because she’s just always wanted to know what exactly happens when someone snaps for good.

You do a lot of nothing from 11 am when you messaged Rose to 1am when you finally admit you have no idea what anyone wears to any kind of occasion and call your best friend in the world.

The conversation goes something like this:

KANAYA: Are You Aware That Its The Middle Of The Night  
KARKAT: I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT WHAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE TIME RIGHT NOW OR ANY TIME BECAUSE *FUCK* TIME.  
KANAYA: Okay Yes Youre Very Loud And Im Very Impressed  
KANAYA: What Am I Talking To You For  
KARKAT: DON’T MAKE FUN.  
KANAYA: No Promises  
KARKAT: I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR.  
KANAYA: Im On My Way

Of course you don’t actually let Kanaya come over to your house in the middle of the night. That would be a really shitty way to treat your best friend. Instead you extract a promise that she’ll stop by before she goes to work, and you’ve fortunately caught her on her later rotation. The childcare centre where she works is open from 6am until 8pm, so she does a week of early shift, a week of mids and a week of lates. Personally you think you’’d rather just get used to a set schedule, but Kanaya doesn’t mind. 

You’re not complaining about it today, anyway, because it means that you can have her for the whole morning. Though you don’t have that many clothes and you bought most of them under her supervision, you’re glad she’s taking the time. 

‘So, why am I helping you?’ she asks as she drapes a t-shirt over your chest with all the ceremony of a royal seamstress.

‘I’m going to Rose Lalonde’s house today …’

‘I understand completely, say no more.’

‘And I think Dave might be there.’

Kanaya pauses. She gives you a curious look and throws the t-shirt onto your bed. 

‘Elaborate.’

‘What, is it a _crime_ to want to dress nicely? Are you going to put me _in prison_ for not wanting to look like I sleep in a sewer? Is this some kind of—’

‘Karkat, I’m going to cut you off there. Dave Strider?’

Kanaya has superpowers when it comes to interrupting ridiculous tantrums. You assume it’s really handy at work, and it’s more than a little bit why you value her as a friend. Sometimes you need to be stopped.

‘Yes,’ you say reluctantly. 

‘Hmm …’

‘What does that mean!?’ you ask

Kanaya returns to your wardrobe and picks up a different shirt, a collared short-sleeve one you haven’t worn since she made you buy it because the pattern is a bit loud for you. 

‘Kanaya!’

‘Oh, I was thinking. No, that makes complete sense to me. But impressing Dave is a different beast to impressing Rose, so … perhaps with a white undershirt? I know you think you’re allergic to patterns.’

She starts looking at your shoe options as you open and close your mouth in an attempt to say outraged and probably loud things in her direction. You can’t quite string together your thoughts though. There’s nothing predictable about this turn of events! She should be surprised!

‘Will you be carrying your bag? I don’t want to match it with your shoes, that would be tacky.’

‘Yes,’ you say dumbly. You stare at the shirt she’s picked out. ‘I’d hate to be tacky.’

‘Now, have you been in love with Dave Strider since the first time we met him and as I recall he literally pulled your hair, or is this a more recent development?’

You groan and sit on the floor dramatically. She finishes assembling your outfit and puts the various clothes on your head. You pull them off carefully and sit them on the carpet next to you. You’ll probably iron everything anyway, but still.

‘I’m not in love with him,’ you say.

‘Oh heavens, must I really say “like-like”? We’re in our _20s,_ Karkat, have some dignity. Though even entertaining thoughts about Dave Strider is undignified enough, are you sure you don’t prefer Rose?’

‘If you like Rose so much, why don’t you marry her?’ you say, in the come-back of the century. 

‘Is she gay?’ Kanaya asks curiously. ‘Well, okay then.’

You groan again. Kanaya kneels delicately next to you and pats your shoulder condescendingly. It’s still kind of reassuring. 

‘I don’t even know if I “like-like” Dave. Or like him, for that matter! He’s a massive douche!’

‘I know,’ Kanaya says archly. It’s the voice of a friend who got you out of your various messes and who you forbade from taking things to a teacher. Or taking care of herself. You’re fairly sure if you had just allowed Kanaya to express disappointment in Dave for the shit he pulled, he would have melted. But you had to fight your own battles. Or, in much more honest phrasing, you had to stubbornly ignore that you had any battles unless you were complaining about them. 

‘He said sorry,’ you tell her.

_’Well,_ if he’s _sorry!’_

You make a face at her. It’s very ineffective to pull faces at someone who deals with literal infants every day of the week. 

‘Go on,’ she prompts.

‘He bought me lunch,’ you say sulkily. ‘We talked. He actually listens now, he doesn’t just wait until it’s his turn to talk again. And I think he might be a genius.’

‘Well fuck. Perhaps I should have brought you a tuxedo, seeing as you’re clearly much too far gone to be sensible.’

‘No, I mean—’

‘Really, if you’re going to go insane, you might as well do it in formal wear.’

‘Kanaya, I—’

‘Not that I should be encouraging you, but you’ve gotten this far without any encouragement.’

‘Are you done!?’ you ask, putting both your hands over her mouth. She raises a single eyebrow in perfect judgement. 

‘He _writes,_ he does this comic thing! I’m not basing his genius on his uncanny ability to know when I haven’t bothered with a belt or it’s too loose or whatever and pants me, I’m not fucking insane, _or_ in love, I’m just—!’ You don’t quite know to finish that sentence. 

You take your hands off Kanaya’s mouth. She traces the outline of her bottom lip with her thumb and fixes the lipstick you smudged.

‘You’re just fretting over what to wear,’ she says. ‘Okay, well I suppose it might make sense for someone meeting with old school friends to want to present their best self.’

‘Yes! Yes, that’s it.’

Kanaya looks at you smugly like she doesn’t think that’s really what’s going on. You don’t think she’ll push you anymore at least. 

‘Ask Rose if she is indeed gay when you see her, and if she is ask her if she has plans on Saturday.’

‘I’m not asking a girl out for you?’ you say. ‘How would I even do that with any sort of class or dignity?

‘I always thought the advantage of being you was that you could say things without worrying about class or dignity,’ Kanaya says. 

*

You send Rose a text in advance to prepare her for your arrival, and then end up on her doorstep holding the three books you couldn’t fit into your satchel, your internal voice bullying you in an attempt to get you to ring the doorbell. Bullying has never been an effective motivator for you. But this time you don’t want to dig your heels in. 

You ring the doorbell.

‘Dave, could you get that please?’ you hear from inside. You have about three seconds to freak out that your suspicions were correct before Dave is opening the door. 

‘Oh,’ he says, thick eyebrows high on his forehead. _’Oh._ Oh, yeah, she definitely knew you were coming. Hi. Are you, like, particularly invested in seeing Rose tonight? Because I was thinking I might murder her, but if that’s going to inconvenience you, I’ll put it off.’

‘I’d like to see her, yeah,’ you say.

‘Shame. Come in, anyway.’

Dave opens the door wider for you and you step inside, automatically toeing your shoes off. 

‘You don’t need to,’ he says. ‘I mean, you can. However your feet are most comfortable! Okay, I’m not gonna talk about your feet. I’m going to …’ He points in the direction of the rest of the apartment and you follow him once you’ve kicked your shoes so they look neat enough. 

You enter the kitchen only a couple of seconds after him. Rose looks up to smile at you, but returns her attention to Dave’s already begun speech rather than interrupt him.

‘So, Karkat’s here,’ he’s saying. ‘You know, Karkat, our buddy Karkat, we have Karkat over all the fucking time, I was just saying the other day that damn, maybe he should think about chipping in on the rent situation, that’s how much of a non-issue it is that he’s visiting. I love that you clearly were expecting him and when the _fuck_ did you bring a third bowl out, I am not imagining this shit, there were _two_ bowls, cool, so that’s cool, so Karkat’s here for dinner, we’re having dinner with Karkat and me and you, that’s a cool thing that’s happening, I’m gonna go wash my fucking hands or something.’

Rose applauds sarcastically as Dave leaves the room, middle finger held up over his shoulder. 

‘Good evening,’ she says to you. ‘I see you’ve brought at least some of my books back.’

‘Where do you want them?’ you ask, transferring them to one hand so that you can open your satchel and demonstrate that you have in fact brought them _all_ back. 

‘I don’t suppose I could convince you I keep them in the bathroom?’

‘I’m not ambushing Dave for you, no.’

‘Well, not twice within the first five minutes, anyway,’ Rose sighs. ‘They’re fine on the bench for now, I’ll probably put them away at some point.’

You put the books next to a small pile of mail and a slightly wilting pot plant. You hold out a bottle of wine to her as well.

‘Oh, thank you,’ she says, taking it and turning it over. You hope she’s just pretending to know enough about wine that the label will give her information beyond “red”. You sure as shit don’t. 

‘What was that about?’ you ask.

‘Retribution,’ she says, smiling wickedly. ‘A very small compensation for the horrors he enacted on you in school. And I am sorry I didn’t pull him into line, it was on my peripheral.’

‘I’m over it,’ you say, trying not to sound defensive.

‘Yes, I hear that’s a rather good revenge too. Could I trouble you to grate some cheese for me while my usual sous chef presumably weeps in the bathroom?’

‘Fuck you,’ Dave says, coming back into the room. ‘And don’t make Karkat help cook, Jesus, who raised you?’

‘Would that I could say wolves,’ Rose replies dryly.

Dave goes to the fridge and takes out cheese and a second later has a grater as well. He clearly knows his way around this kitchen, even if he doesn’t live here. He also doesn’t look like he’s been weeping, though he’s wearing his stupid aviators inside as usual. 

‘So, pile of books that wasn’t here before, take it that’s the Rose connection?’ Dave says.

‘Yeah, _Language of the Night_ is out of print,’ you say, gesturing to one of the books. ‘She had some other recommendations as well.’

‘That’s Rose,’ Dave says, nodding. ‘You ask her for a book to take to the beach and she sends you with no room for your fucking shorts.’

‘And you bring them back with sand in the spine,’ she says, poking Dave in the side with the clean end of the wooden spoon she’s using. He flinches away, smiling minutely.

There’s a big difference here to the Dave you saw the other day. He might have been thrown off by your entrance, but he’s comfortable here in a way he wasn’t in the bar. It’s interesting, and makes things a lot worse for you. 

There was a _particularly_ idiotic time at the start of middle school, when Dave had only pulled your hair, drawn dicks all over your homework and picked you up (kicking ineffectively) and put you in a bin, when you found his attention flattering. You were new at the gay thing! But instead of ever _talking_ to you, Dave kept just … putting you in bins or whatever. His bleach-blond hair and dorky laugh that should have been embarrassing but was mostly just cute were not enough to outweigh the fact that he was a jerk. 

And then the other day he was so obviously nervous, doing whatever he could to make you happy. It was sweet, but made you think of a puppy or something. Sometimes he forgot himself long enough to crack a genuine joke, but you’ve had more relaxed conversations with freshmen failing your classes. 

But now … Well, your first impression was again one of complete anxiety, but with something to do with his hands and a safe person to tease, he’s recognisable as the Dave that you had once wanted to know. Just minus the bullying and with the knowledge in the back of your head that (despite the face that he’s currently telling Rose that unless she tells him how much cheese she wants he’s going to keep grating until the room is full and then until the world is full and all the deaths of a cheese-filled world will be on her) he’s actually smart in a way that’s directly appealing to you.

‘It’s just for the top of the pasta, Dave, show me how much you’ve done,’ Rose says. ‘I suppose I can put it in a container,’ she sighs. ‘Stop. Don’t grate more. Dave. This isn’t _cute,_ I’ll make you eat it!’

‘Good, cheese is amazing. Grated cheese is better than normal cheese too, back me up Karkat. Do you think it’s ‘cause it airates it or something like wine? Or is it just because grating cheese is a pain in the ass and it needs a good reward.’

‘I have no idea,’ you say.

Dave finally puts the grater away and tries to hand you grated cheese. You don’t accept his offering, because you’re not going to eat plain grated cheese out of your hand while you’re pretending to be the kind of houseguest who brings a bottle of wine and wears nice shirts, but he grabs your hand and pulls your fingers straight before putting the cheese in your hand. 

‘Oh, shit,’ he says, as you sigh and start eating it as neatly as you can. 

‘What?’ you ask. 

‘That was totally not a respecting your boundaries move,’ he says. ‘I am so sorry, do you want to throw that at me or something?’

‘I’m fine,’ you say flatly. 

‘I can mediate if you like,’ Rose says. ‘I have now successfully mediated two disputes.’

‘How many have you attempted?’ you ask.

‘I don’t think stopping that angry woman from punching the teller at McDonald’s counts as mediation.’

‘She was _very_ angry.’

Rose finishes serving dinner and hands you two bowls to take to the dinner table. You try and remember if either of them left any impression in home economics, but even if they’d burnt the school down you’d be eating what you’ve been given and insisting you love it. 

‘I’d quiz you relentlessly about the books you’ve returned if Dave wasn’t here,’ Rose says as you start eating. ‘But unfortunately he refuses to read anything I’ve deemed “good”. It’s a mutually destructive tendency we have.’

‘No, it’s a time saving thing,’ Dave argues. You end up in between them and feel that this was both entirely Rose’s design and is a terrible place to be. ‘One day we’re going to key into this psychic thing, and then we’ll be able to remember everything both of us have read, so why double up?’

‘This is also how he justified not studying for his chemistry exam,’ Rose sighs. 

‘I passed.’

‘You passed because you’re aggravatingly intelligent and you accidentally learned enough passively.’

‘Ask her what she thinks studying is, Karkat, I’m not the one with shit study practices in this house.’

Yep, in the middle of them is a _fucking_ terrible place to be. You gesture to your full mouth as if you’re disappointed by your inability to encourage sibling bickering. It’s your go-to strategy for not having to answer Kankri’s bullshit at family dinners.

‘Let’s stop being assholes,’ Rose suggests. ‘If you’ve decided against fantasy, Karkat, do you know what you will use?’

Shit. You glance at Dave awkwardly, pretending to chew a mouthful of food you’ve already swallowed to buy time.

‘You can talk book shit around me, dude, I’m not too cool for school anymore I promise,’ Dave says, completely misinterpreting your discomfort. ‘Well, I mean, I literally am. They couldn’t handle my coolness, it was giving all the other students frostbite and the college’s insurance could only handle so many toe amputations before they had to say, Dave, look, obviously you’re the greatest student we’ve ever had or ever will have, but unless you want to be kissing everyone’s little piggies better then you better clear out. It’s not like they were really teaching me anything anyway, I was doing them a service by attending. They were saving a fortune on air conditioning costs until the frostbite sitch, I was an economic pharmakon.’

‘You were a pretentious shit,’ Rose says. ‘He actually can keep up with literary criticism though, he has practice.’

They both look at you curiously. Given that they’re on either side of you, it’s a lot. You wish one of them had sat on the other side of the table. Why does Rose need a table that seats twelve anyway? 

‘I was considering something more absurdist,’ you say tentatively.

‘Hell _yes,_ my bro, you have got to tell me everything about that. Hey, I know nothing about PhDs, could you fuck with the structure or does it have to be like a really long essay.’

‘They’re novel sized, Dave, they’re more than just really long essays,’ Rose says.

‘There’s some room for creativity, but I haven’t really got that far yet.’ You think your advisor would either really love or really hate if you mimicked the style of _Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff_ throughout your analysis. Given that her PhD was on the first four words of _Revelations,_ she doesn’t have a lot of wiggle room to complain about strange areas of study.

‘What prompted this change?’ Rose asks. 

You wish you were the kind who went silent or used filler words in your awkwardness. But no, you’ve always been a firm believer in being able to dig through the core of the planet and to the other side instead of stepping out of holes you’ve found yourself in.

‘It wasn’t just one thing!’ you say, way too defensively. ‘There are a lot of fucking factors that go into basically all of my thought processes, I don’t just “make decisions” lightly, especially not ones that are going to inform literally years of study. Part of it’s elimination! I’ve looked at basically every other angle of non-canonical literature I can think of, short of pornography, and I draw the fucking line there. I’ve considered tacky bodice-rippers you can pick up for 99 cents but let’s not get carried away by what is and isn’t classified literature. And it’s maybe a step away from what I expected to consider a visual element, but why would I do the same study I’ve already done? I’m not afraid of a challenge!’

‘I see,’ Rose says.

‘Haha wow,’ Dave says. 

‘I want to use his fucking comic,’ you say, stabbing your fork in Dave’s direction and staring at your pasta so you don’t have to see either of their reactions.

After a few beats of silence, you look up, unable to bear it. They’re leaned back slightly in their chairs staring at each other behind your head. They both look at you when you move, and you wonder if they’re as non-psychic as Rose insists. 

‘Firstly, I’m overjoyed that you first established that pornography was your bedrock before you mentioned SBaHJ,’ Dave says, pronouncing the acronym as a word. 

‘Same,’ Rose says. ‘It’s the kind of revelation that makes one wish she had a set of Rorshachs in the other room …’ She smiles in a way that makes you certain that she does. You _will_ leave midway through a meal before you are inflicted with splotchy abstract nothings. 

‘Secondly, what the fuck?’

‘Same,’ Rose agrees, more enthusiastically. 

‘They make me want to use dumb words like “post-post-modernism”,’ you groan.

‘They make me want to use dumb words like “disdaction”,’ Rose says. ‘They’re mimetic, but they’re not … though I suppose I know someone who did their dissertation on emojis.’

‘Can we talk about something else?’ you ask.

‘Of course,’ Rose says. ‘That’s given us plenty to absorb, I’m sure. Do you have an alternative conversation in mind?’

You do not. So, you go with your tried and true method of not thinking at all before you speak.

‘Are you gay?’ you ask Rose.

You fucking hate present Karkat.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask me for book recommendations, this chapter is obviously way too subtle at showing off I like books hahaha  
Also, I couldn't look at this anymore so I hope there's no obvious typos or like sentences I meant to go back and finish later!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like reading my fic and would like to hang out with myself, other active Homestuck fic writers and other fic appreciators, here's a link to a Discord server where you can do that! Full access is granted after introductions. https://discord.gg/YPPUJRa

Karkat’s revelation that he wants to write about SBaHJ has a strange effect on you. You realise you don’t know what that means and interrogate Rose about what actually goes into a PhD. She hands you her thesis, which you’ve been avoiding for about a year. 

You have a problem. It’s a big part of why you left college. And the Ritalin hasn’t magically fixed it, much as you’re now able to _choose_ when to focus rather than leave it up to the whims of the ADHD gods. Your problem is that you’re half Lalonde.

So, reading Rose’s thesis isn’t enough. You have to have read every text in her bibliography, or you’ll fucking crack. You can’t have a conversation with her about this if you’re not an expert on it. Which is why you usually keep your interests as far away from hers as you can. 

_Expressing the Light: the link between language patterns and happiness._

Basically, Rose’s premise is that the language people uses has an impact on their mental health. It’s a baffling conclusion for a woman fluent in five languages (including _Klingon,_ the fucking nerd, even Star Trek fans look down on the ones who speak Klingon) who also has been struggling with bipolar two half her life. 

It’s interesting, though. Learning about linguistics, about the origin of languages and the histories involved, learning about invented languages and pidgins. And then on the other side, learning about the brain and synapses and chemicals and pleasure pathways. About how almost everything you do affects your body and mind, so why wouldn’t language? Not just _language_ language, like English or whatever, but the language that people use.

The thing about language is that it’s so tied up in culture. It’s difficult to say that Finnish or Swedish makes people happier, when the fact that they have such healthy lives and other markers of success is a stronger argument. It’s impossible to say that people with better vocabularies are happier when that’s generally a sign of privilege. Invented languages, designed exactly for the purpose of making the world be able to communicate better or to change how people think, have literally never worked that way en masse or with any scientific legitimacy, in fact despite the obvious love that Rose writes about them, it’s a wry kind of love, like how she talks about how you ended up in the emergency room at twelve with two crayons up your nose.

The positive speech thing is the strongest conclusion she could draw. The act of speaking positively has been proven to override negative thoughts. You know that it’s one of the techniques Rose uses herself when she’s having a depressive episode, and it’s how she grounds herself during mania. And it’s when she combines it with all the other stuff that she manages to show that she’s presented something completely original, a prerequisite to a PhD.

It takes you three months to get through it. Three months of barely sleeping, zombie-walking through your shifts and retreating into the safety of SBaHJ to let your brain rest and process the deluge of new information. The characters start referencing John Keats, Jean Baudrillard and Mark Z. Danielewski instead of your usual philosophy and maths references. A couple of fans who used to “get” you drift away, announcing their disappointment in the forums. You tell them to keep up or fuck off, and then post a comic that’s nothing but fart jokes as an ironic complicity with their implied request for easier content. 

You think Karkat’s on your forums too. A new user created an account with the handle carcinoGeneticist the day after you gave him a link to your site, and his Grindr profile was under CG as well. You’re not popular enough that you have a deluge of people joining, you mostly have a loyal cohort that’s enough to pay the site hosting costs and treat yourself to a coffee now and then. And you highly suspect that your single top tier patron is your brother.

Karkat hasn’t messaged you again. You won’t message him first. You want to, desperately. You’d like to pretend that it’s for completely friendly reasons, but you have a bad habit of falling in love with almost everyone you have an interaction with.

Okay, love is putting it a bit strong. But if you get a cute barista, or a customer with a nice smile thanks you warmly, or someone tells you a bad joke, you get this rush. You flirt shamelessly with them, you fantasise about meeting them again and you walk away with imagined kisses on your lips. 

It usually doesn’t go further than putting you in a good mood. Your Grindr profile is great, as is your Tinder one, because flirting is fun as hell and it practically feels like one of those dating sim games at this point, except sometimes you get a real date or lay out of it. But you don’t have that much time for it, and it hurts when your partner only wants something casual or they aren’t right. It _really_ hurts when you aren’t right. 

So you’d have a crush on Karkat out of sheer habit based on the fact that you’ve interacted with him twice. The fact that he’s hot, clever and funny is not helping. The fact that you aren’t right for him _aches._

It’s not like you’re suffering from poor self-esteem. You like yourself, even if you’ll also admit you have flaws. But this isn’t “Dave, can you please shut up, just once, please shut up” or “are you seriously dumping me because your sister doesn’t like me”. You _bullied_ this guy. 

You hurt him, over and over. And you didn’t care. And now you want to swoop in and just _happen_ to run into him on his college campus? You’re daydreaming about him coming in for coffee at your work and you saying “we have to stop meeting like this” and then getting fucking married? You think you deserve to stare longingly at his Grindr profile as if you ever, _ever_ deserve to have him in bed?

You think if you did run into him again, you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. You’d have to ask him out. But you can at least not fabricate that happening. You have that much self control.

Interestingly, Rose is having a lot more luck from this whole experience than you. Karkat mentioned that his friend Kanaya was single when he came over for dinner and gave Rose her number. It was actually a very good move, distraction wise. While you barely remember Kanaya from school, Rose very clearly does. 

She pretends otherwise, but she’s just as guilty of falling in love in the first five minutes of an acquaintanceship as you. You get to meet Kanaya a couple of times, and Rose anxiously pulls you aside to beg you to be okay with her. You are, of course. Kanaya is awesome. You’re probably too close to Rose, seeing as neither of you can tolerate the idea of not seeing each other at least twice a week and you both decided a long time ago that meant you had to be able to get along with each others’ partners. But you also both knew that if someone wasn’t right with both of you, they couldn’t be right with one of you.

Kanaya brings Karkat up casually when the three of you are hanging out. Enough that you aren’t sure it’s casual, because Kanaya actually sucks at being subtle. She literally can’t wink. Or whistle. You spent over ten minutes trying to teach her once but it was useless. 

It’s never anything _really_ interesting. Just as she’s recounting what she’s been up to, she’ll mention she’s dragged Karkat away from his work, or she took him food on her way to work, or they went to a party together. It’s the way she unfailingly looks for your reaction that makes you more suspicious than when she mentions any other friend.

You don’t let yourself say anything more commital than, “Oh yeah, how’s he doing?” because you don’t have the right to know anything more. Eventually Rose takes pity on you and intervenes. 

‘You should invite him over sometime,’ Rose says after his name comes up _again._ ‘He’s one of your closest friends and Dave and I both like him. I have a very large dining table, and with you in the house I don’t have to put take-out in a pot and pretend to have cooked it myself.’

‘Don’t give away trade secrets,’ you tell her.

‘He’s very difficult to peel away from his study at the moment,’ Kanaya sighs. ‘Something about restructuring everything and his adviser threatening him with grotesque torture. I bribe my way in with food. He has a sweet tooth.’ She looks significantly at you and you sigh. That was one hint too many. 

‘Fuck it,’ you say. ‘If you’re going to do this, you might as well tell me his favourite chocolate or whatever. I’m not _actually_ going to succeed in this, but if you’re determined to see me make a fool of myself in compensation for all the various times I was a bastard to him, whatever, at least it’ll be actually brave instead of pining.’

‘You’ve been pining?’ Kanaya asks.

‘It’s been difficult to bear,’ Rose says. ‘Between that and the fact that he keeps insinuating I received my PhD through witchcraft or wiles rather than work, I’ve been contemplating leaving him on the stoop to starve.’

‘It was _good,_ I just don’t know that it was _original,’_ you say.

Rose smiles at you pleasantly. You shut up. 

‘He likes white chocolate,’ Kanaya says. ‘And he’s a morning person, so if your sleep habits resemble Rose’s, please attempt to adjust for the limits of sanity.’

‘I wouldn’t have guessed,’ Rose says. ‘He …’ she gestures to her eyes.

‘Is well exceeding the airline’s policy for maximum weight on those bags he’s attempting to pass as carry-ons,’ you supply. 

‘He doesn’t always _sleep,_ but he does wake up at six regardless of his insomnia.’

You and Rose both recoil from the concept of six in the morning. That time does not exist. You’ve managed to see it from the night-side, watching the sun rise a couple of times. Your bro has encouraged you to be awake for it a couple times too, not that he likes waking up early either. 

‘You’re being twinnish again,’ Kanaya accuses. 

You and Rose give her identical, very practiced smiles. Twin telepathy might not be real, but having a whole childhood in which to rehearse freaking people out definitely helps.

*

It’s dumb, that you’re doing this. In one hand you have a giant box of white chocolates, the kind that’s truffley and definitely deserving of a kiss in your expert opinion, in the other you have your fidget cube. It is straight up not working.

You press the button for Karkat’s apartment and it takes a few anxiety-inducing seconds before he comes to the door.

‘What?’ he asks, his voice grumpy. You can’t believe this is how he answers the door. You love him. Wait, no. It’s just a normal amount of cute.

‘Hey, it’s Dave,’ you say. There’s a pause, and you resist the urge to clarify. How many Daves could he know? You’re about to start rambling about Kanaya and the importance of study snacks, when he buzzes you in. 

Karkat’s apartment is _neat._ His hair is a fucking disaster, he has several days worth of stubble on his cheeks and his eyes are red and with deeper shadows under them than you’ve seen before (more so than the usual permanent fixtures). This is what indicates to you that you’re in trouble. Because you find him absolutely adorable.

You hold the chocolates out and he takes them, looking at them blearily. 

‘You look like you could use a break,’ you say.

‘I’m—’ he breaks off like maybe he was going to say something ridiculous, like “fine”, when you’re standing in front of him and can see better, and sighs. 

‘You know you gotta pace yourself with this shit, right? You can’t sprint it, it’s like three years of work.’

‘Yeah,’ he grumbles. ‘Okay, distract me from my lifelong dream.’

You smile at that and reach into your backpack. 

‘_Marley and Me_ or _10 Things I Hate About You?’_ you ask, pulling out DVDs. 

He looks at your face as if checking for some kind of trap, so you try to look as earnest as you can. You chose these movies on purpose, you’ve seen them both, so you won’t care if you zone out because of cute boy presence, but they’re also good and rewatchable. You want to show him that you remember that he was a sucker for a romance, that you pay attention to him. That you can be vulnerable too.

‘Is this ironic?’ he asks.

‘Not even I could make bawling my eyes out at either Heath Ledger or a labrador retriever ironic.’

‘Heath Ledger for sure,’ he tells you. 

He gives you a small smile and leads you into his tiny kitchenette. You end up as a carrying apparatus for a whole bunch of snacks, and he sets the microwave to do the popcorn thing as he pushes you back into the lounge/everything else area like you really are just a trolley. 

‘Figure out the DVD player,’ he instructs, returning to monitor the popcorn. 

You arrange the snacks on the coffee table and examine the three remotes. Using other peoples’ technology is hardly your favourite pastime, but it’s not that difficult. You put in the movie and spin the wheel on your fidget cube inside your hoodie pocket as you wait for the popcorn to be ready. 

He sits close to you, not that there’s really an alternative. His sofa is a two-seater, and the cushions are so plush they seem to be conspiring to push the two of you together.

‘Is it okay that I came over?’ you ask.

‘I need to be forced to take a break sometimes,’ he admits, looking over at his computer desk, the only part of his house that you can see that’s less than ordered. It’s still very neat, post-its on the wall and books straight with more post-its sticking out of them and notes in two small piles. Very not how your family does it.

‘Kanaya mentioned you’ve been working pretty hard.’

‘I almost want to make you read it,’ Karkat says, rubbing at his eyes. ‘But if I get input from the author, then I can’t put you back in the grave and make my own interpretations.’

‘The second you finish, I’m there,’ you promise.

Karkat looks at you strangely. You don’t get why at first, until you remember that you were literally just telling him that this is a years long project. You make a solid effort not to let your discomfort show, but he obviously sees right through you. He smirks and shoves a piece of popcorn in your mouth before settling back into the couch.

It’s basically torture, watching Karkat eat and lick his fingers neatly, so close to him that you can feel the heat of his body but not close enough to touch. But it’s the good kind of torture, the kind that thrills you and is going to leave you skipping home, you can already tell.

‘How many times have you seen this movie?’ you risk asking as the camera does a sweeping shot without dialogue. 

‘Too many to count,’ Karkat confesses. ‘He’s such an _endearing_ asshole.’

‘When do you think it becomes real for him?’

‘Almost immediately,’ Karkat snorts. ‘That’s the beauty. He’s supposed to be mercenary, but he’s a softie. The second he sees the real her, he’s gone.’

You quiet down, not wanting to risk annoying him. He smiles up at you, open and happy under all that exhaustion. You have no idea how you managed to _get_ this. You didn’t even try to win him over, but he seems okay with you.

Vulnerability. That’s the secret, isn’t it. Always is, in every single one of these movies. People grow closer when they trust each other. You squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, trying to find some of that courage your brother swears you got with your last name, and take off your shades, throwing them faux-carelessly onto the coffee table.

He looks up at you, and you know it’s useless to pretend you haven’t noticed, so you glance at him before looking back at the movie. He does the same, a good few seconds later. 

You know it’s not enough, you’re still playing like this is all no big deal. You need to put yourself out there, to wear the risk that he’ll reject you and not in this ridiculous way where you can pretend you’re out for friendship and not actually be rejected.

‘Can I put my arm around you?’ you ask. Your voice doesn’t shake, but as you meet his eyes, you know that you’re being far more revealing than you want to be. He nods.

It’s not quite as smooth as you want it to be. Your arm was trapped between the two of you, so you both have to kind of move apart for you to be able to move together, and then your nose itches so you take it back and it’s just not quite perfect like it might have been if you were teen Heath Ledger.

But the second he relaxes against you, when you can play with the sleeve of his t-shirt and he just moves a bit closer, you realise you wouldn’t give this up for any appearance of perfection. You kiss the top of his head and he puts a hand on your knee. 

_Oh fuck,_ you realise. _He didn’t reject me._


	5. Chapter 5

Dave Strider is cuddling you.

You know how this happened, you were there when he came to the door with a box of chocolates and two of your favourite romantic comedies. You just kind of reacted the way you’re reacting to everything lately. You’re that fucking tired that it’s like, well, whatever, you can just deal with whatever happens because why spare the mental space to think about anything?

You’re not quite on autopilot enough to survive this, though. You had to take the fucking wheel back when you sat on the couch with him, the couch that has always felt the perfect size to contain the stupid positions you contort yourself into as you read and has plenty of room for Terezi or Kanaya when they visit. It feels woefully small now, though Dave is shorter than Kanaya. You’re used to the closeness of your friends. You’re not used to whatever this is.

You hand is on his _knee._ Knees are innocent, not remotely arousing, just about the most neutral place to touch someone and yet in combination with his arm around you, the shades he dropped onto your coffee table, the fact that under the buttery popcorn you can smell the somehow cold smell of his stupidly boy-flavoured deodorant, it’s all feeling like a lot in the best possible way. 

Your brother would lecture you for hours if he learned you were seeing the guy you more than once referred to as your nemesis. You remember how appalled he was when a friend of your dad’s recounted meeting his now wife when she was his student when he first started teaching at the university. Or when Kanaya’s sister was considering an arranged marriage. The circumstances and feelings don’t matter to Kankri, there’s no exceptions to his rules of conduct. 

You definitely shouldn’t kiss Dave just because you know it’d piss Kankri off. But you can’t help but smile to yourself at the thought of bringing Dave home for Christmas. 

You _are_ ruled by your feelings. And you’ve been burying yours under the weight of a hundred-thousand word monument to Dave’s work. Even if you divorce the academic in you that is fascinated by his work, you still _like_ Dave. 

You like his quick wit and his self-deprecating humour. You like the way his cheek dimples when he smiles, even when it’s the half-smile he does when he’s still able to fight off his real one. You like how his hair is always threatening to fall into his eyes, like he’s walked straight off the poster of _Romeo + Juliet_ you definitely had in your room for non-gay reasons. You like how his arm around you is solid and calm, but you can hear the soft click of the switch side of his fidget cube he has hidden in his pocket, giving him away. You like how your stomach drops with complete disregard for the rest of your body whenever you meet his eyes, how the red irises fail to make him look inhuman. You like the way your skin feels charged, on the edge of a shiver, just because he’s close and you’re thinking about kissing him.

You want to kiss him so much. 

You peek up at him, thinking about all the ways he’s shown he wants that too. He wouldn’t have come over here like this if he didn’t care, right? He wouldn’t be so well behaved if he was just looking for a Grindr style hookup, and he certainly wouldn’t be bothering with you if he were. There’s hundreds of men in the immediate radius if he were after that. 

You glare at the television screen. Kat doesn’t care about Patrick’s shitty past. _Maybe I can make Dave buy me a bass guitar,_ you think sarcastically. If it came down to a bribe, it wouldn’t be a question. Neither you or Kat would be with someone because of a present or a prerequisite amount of penance. She just loves him. You …

You hate this internal debate, like you have to figure out every single feeling you have for the guy before the credits roll. What happens if you kiss him and there’s no spark? Then you’ve agonised over this for literally nothing. You’re being an idiot. And possibly procrastinating due to nerves.

‘Dave?’ you ask, looking up at him again. 

He turns to you with a, ‘Mm?’ of acknowledgement.

You don’t know what you were going to ask him, looking at him like this wipes your brain completely clear of every tangled thought you had. You stretch up and kiss him gently, innocent and more shy than you’d been going for. 

He follows you as you draw back, twisting in his seat and cupping your cheek to stop you from leaving it at that. His eyes flick back to yours briefly before he kisses you back. He lingers, and you find your hand is holding onto the thin material of his t-shirt to keep him there longer. If you thought your skin was electric just from sitting next to him, it’s a wildfire from kissing him. It burns right up your spine and scorches your brain.

He releases you before you can make an effort to deepen it, and stays in the position he’s gotten himself into. With one arm still around you and the other one on your cheek, it feels like he’s crowded you into the corner, like he’s the smallest suggestion from being on top of you. He tucks your hair behind your ear, still staring at you with intensity, a tiny smile softening the expression. 

‘Karkat,’ he says, and you have to fight a shiver at the way his voice has deepened. ‘You won’t be able to get rid of me if you kiss me again, I’m like a stray cat you’ve made the mistake of feeding, I’m—’

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his in what has to be the best and maybe only way to stop Dave Strider from talking. He makes a broken, helpless sound that actually does make you shiver, and you pull his waist closer. When you break away again, it’s only to gasp for breath. 

You didn’t mean for that to be the end of kissing, but he leans away from you and well back onto his side of the couch. Though your legs are still touching, he feels much too far away.

‘Why’d you stop?’ you ask, trying with limited success not to stare at his kiss-reddened lips. 

‘Because I _like_ you, idiot,’ he says. He drags his hand down his face and squeezes his eyes shut like it’s the only way to keep himself from staring at you. ‘You deserve the whole,’ he gestures at the TV, eyes still closed, ‘rom-com treatment.’

‘The rom-com treatment,’ you repeat. You try and imagine exactly what that is, but despite your embarrassingly full hard-drive, you can’t think of what he means by that. There’s kind of a lot of variety, and there’s definitely several that involve making out during movies. ‘Wait, do you actually just mean romance?’ you ask.

He nods, finally opening his eyes again and looking at you.

‘I can’t imagine you excelling at that,’ you say.

‘I’ll learn,’ he says earnestly. ‘We’ll go out for dinner, right? I’ll cook for you sometime, I’ll think of a date that isn’t centred around food, probably. Presents? Did I get the right chocolates, there were a lot of options and—’

You decide, for science, to test whether kissing works to stop Dave from talking a second time. It does, and there’s something deeply satisfying about the way he only manages to hold onto his rigid posture for a second before he gets lost in your kiss. You think you could break his resolve, and it’s honestly tempting to, but you could stand to be wined and dined. More than that, he’s trying something that you don’t think he’s tried before and you want to respect that, to share that with him.

You pull back and he looks at you with naked, pained longing before he smooths his expression into something more neutral. You can’t help but smirk at how easy he is to get a response out of, but instead of teasing him about it, you pick up his wrist and pull his arm around you, leaning into his side. He holds you closer and kisses you on the hair like he did when he first held you like this. It makes your heart squeeze just as much this time.

*

Kanaya helped you dress up, of course, but even her casually mentioning that Rose was providing the same help to Dave wasn’t enough to prepare you for seeing him in a suit.

It’s _floral._ It’s _tailored._ It makes him look slimmer than usual, his white shirt cutting through the noise of the pattern, tieless and with two open buttons exposing his neck. With his shades, he looks like a disaffected actor on a red carpet. But then he sees you and his face breaks into a genuine smile and his gait stutters like he went to take a much larger step and then corrected himself.

‘Hey,’ you say once he’s in front of you. You touch one of his lapels, as if to prove he’s real. 

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Inside?’

His hand brushes yours as you both enter through the small doorway at the same time. It’s a nice restaurant, but probably not suit worthy, even without the tie. You know he doesn’t make that much money waiting tables, so you shouted down his more ridiculous suggestions. You can’t and don’t want to be bought. He wants you to feel how highly he values you. This is a compromise, and you fully expect him to show you in other ways.

You get sat down and grit your teeth through the hostess explaining where you can find the specials and assuring you that she’ll take good care of you. It’s maybe a thirty second spiel, but you just want to be with Dave. He looks at you instead of her the whole time and it’s very distracting.

‘I was going to bring you flowers,’ he says, the second she leaves. ‘But Rose asked me where I was planning on keeping them during the date and I didn’t have an answer. It seems like a thing though, should I have done that?’

‘Not unless you were picking me up so I could put them in a vase before we left my house,’ you say. 

‘Right,’ he says, exhaling the word like it’s a weight off. You realise he really doesn’t know what he’s doing.

‘Surely you’ve dated before,’ you say.

Dave half-smiles awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders.

‘I took a girl to Burger King once. I’ve gone clubbing with people. Movies, a couple times. I dunno, I work a lot. My sister is my best friend. A lot of people on the apps are pretty upfront about just wanting to have some fun, nothing more.’

You want to ask him why _you._ It can’t just be guilt over high school. And yeah, you like this stuff, but you also like what you did last week, just hanging out and watching a movie together. You think you _prefer_ feeling comfortable and homey. 

‘I fantasise about it,’ he mumbles. You lean a bit closer, to hear him over the quiet jazz playing from somewhere and other conversations. ‘Like, about finding someone and it’s not a joke to care. I dunno, it’s not like I think I’m actually gonna take the waitress from the four dollar breakfast place on some Disney princess whirlwind adventure. I just wish I was brave enough to drop the en-bee-dee thing.’

‘En-bee-dee?’ you ask.

‘No big deal.’

You nod. That’s adorable, frankly, the idea of Dave staring at someone he doesn’t even know and wanting to do something so innocent. But it doesn’t really clarify why he feels like he can actually live that with you.

‘I think some of it’s your fault,’ he says. You raise your eyebrows incredulously. ‘I mean it, in a lot of ways you’re, like, my template on what gay looks like. And like, I don’t just want to treat dudes right, not that any of them seem to want more than a ‘sup’ anyway. When I eventually figured all my bi shit out, I was kinda freaked out, but you always owned it. So like, I had to be better than you. No offense.’

You roll your eyes at his flimsy ‘no offense’ barrier being activated again. It’d be ridiculous for you to be offended at him basically saying he looked up to you, even though you’ve definitely got a low bar for temper tantrums. 

‘So you came out loud and proud?’

‘Nah,’ he laughs. ‘Just pretended like it was no big. Like, was standing in the kitchen with Bro and Mom there, and Rose but she knew like way before I did, and I was like “damn, so, the dude I was seeing last month said the most ridiculous thing, you gotta hear this,” and they both made the very Strilonde decision to pretend they weren’t at all surprised.’

You roll your eyes again. You’re probably going to be doing a lot of that with Dave.

‘So like, there’s no risk playing it real with you, right? ‘Cause you’re the gold standard for playing it real. Except this whole thing still feels risky as fuck. I’m trying, man, but I’m fuckin’ nervous. I sweated right through my first suit.’ He laughs at himself and shakes his head. ‘Should not have said that. I know I’m not playing it cool, but seriously, Strider, there’s a limit.’

You put your hand on the table and make a grabby motion. He stares at it for a second, wipes his palm on his pants quickly, and takes it. 

‘You don’t have to tell me all your secrets in the first twenty minutes.’

You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back, fighting his smile into subtlety. You open your menu, leaving your hands linked together as you look at it. He copies you.

You have normal conversation after you place your order, or as normal as conversation with Dave can be. You cover religion, sex and politics before the bread arrives, and you have to grin at how he disregards any conversational rules that don’t suit him. You have a weirdly compatible speaking style, you’ve noticed it before but it’s even more obvious tonight. 

‘I can’t wait for you to remeet Kankri,’ you say. He smiles at you full-force, making you realise how presumptuous that was, but you can’t muster the effort to correct yourself into a less-enthusiastic position. This doesn’t feel like a first date, where things are still up in the air about where they’re going. And those dimples are fucking murdering you with cuteness.

‘You have Rose’s approval, by the way,’ he says. 

‘You won’t get Kankri’s,’ you say with a grin. ‘It’s going to be awesome.’

He raises an eyebrow (you’ve never met a person who can match eyebrow maneuverability with him and Rose) but nods. 

‘I don’t really care what Mom and Bro think of you,’ he says. It’s a little too casual to ring true, but you don’t call him out on it. 

‘What’s up with your family situation?’ you ask. ‘I remember your brother, he was a dickhead.’

He snorts. And then very obviously stalls by twirling his pasta around.

‘Yeah. So none of us have any idea who our dads are. We’re not entirely sure Mom didn’t just clone us or some shit, get a donor. She used to tell us stories, but they were like fairytales, kinda unbelievable shit even when we were kids. Bro’s way older than Rose and me, and he’s basically what you get if you try and do the fuckin’ opposite of every lesson Mom ever gave us. She sent us to finishing school, he taught us how to burp the alphabet, that kind of shit.’

‘Classy.’

He grins at you and changes the subject. He asks you about your favourite book, and if you were tied on wordcount before, you well and truly take the lead. It’s just so hard to pick any kind of favourite, so you talk about different genres, but then you can’t pick favourites within genres either. He smiles at you the whole time. Terezi would have kicked you or left the room a sentence into your babbling. 

You stay at the restaurant longer than you’ve ever spent for a meal. He talked you into dessert by saying “chocolate lava cake” very slowly and seriously. When you get outside, he offers you his ridiculous floral jacket. You’re absolutely sure it suits him better than you, and you just wrap it over your shoulders because it’s definitely too small for you. 

‘Is this a fantasy too? Keeping your date warm while freezing to death like an idiot?’

‘I run hot,’ he says, ‘but maybe.’

‘You’re a fucking dork,’ you tell him. 

He just grabs your hand and holds it all the way home, even on the train. He does feel warm. And he won’t stop smiling. It’s contagious and addictive and definitely should be illegal.

‘Come upstairs?’ you ask when you stop at your apartment.

He hesitates, his hands in his pockets now you’ve released him in favour of your keys. You give him a judgemental look. 

‘How far is your chivalry going to extend, Strider?’ you ask.

‘I’m givin’ it a workout,’ he jokes. ‘It’s just gonna be easier for me to walk away out here, where it’s really you walking away from me.’

You put your keys back in your pocket and take his hand again.

‘My apartment’s right up here,’ you say, pointing to the street corner. He frowns in confusion. ‘And then a couple turns,’ you continue. ‘Want to walk with me?’

He turns his head away as he smiles and you pull him along. You’re not ready for your date to be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely kudos and comments on this one, it means so much!

**Author's Note:**

> Might do a second chapter at some point, might not. Obviously in my head they have an adorable not-a-date and fall in love.
> 
> EDIT: Obviously I did a second chapter. I'm considering ... continuing. RIP my WIP folder, it has known many abuses. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to keep going with this idea, it genuinely does make a difference!


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